


If I Could I Would Stop

by PastelBlueDahlia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A Lot Of Tender Gay Feelings, A little angst, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Dorks in Love, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Smut, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBlueDahlia/pseuds/PastelBlueDahlia
Summary: Viktor‘s life is good. Well, it was good until he heard the faint moaning from the other side of the wall from someone he knows he can‘t have.Viktor feels the dark, consuming want for so much in his chest slide deeper and deeper until it drips into his lower stomach, transforming desperation into something hot and liquid and superficial, a basic need so shallow it‘s easier to satisfy than to stitch the hole in his chest.That‘s better.- - -Where they're pining neighbors





	If I Could I Would Stop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BoredMoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredMoose/gifts).



> This was supposed to be another birthday gift for my baby BoredMoose but I'm a mess so I thought hey I could make it an anniversary gift since they're old for a whole week now but that didn't work out either so yeah

 

 

 

He doesn‘t like small spaces, and because Viktor knows that he always makes sure to keep his distance so he doesn‘t feel cornered.  
  
There are several things he knows about his neighbor:  
  
1) His neighbor is cute with large, dark eyes, perfect skin and soft looking black hair. He‘s pretty sure he would look even better if he smiled once in a while, but Viktor hadn‘t had the pleasure of seeing that. And it seems that won‘t change, because he‘s being treated like any other neighbor: with a polite silence and quick, acknowledging nods if they see each other at the supermarket down the street, or  
  
2) in the club his neighbor goes to regularly  
  
3) he lives directly beside him and has friends who smoke and laugh so loud that his own laugh is only a soft tinkle in the cold evening air when Viktor waters the plants on his balcony  
  
4) Viktor hasn‘t talked to him once, and now it feels like it‘s too late to start  
  
5) He seems to hate small spaces because he‘s always biting his lip and tries to take deep, quiet breaths, his forehead desperately crinkled  
  
6) For a couple of weeks now every Sunday morning he always meets him in the elevator. This is probably because  
  
7) His neighbor always comes back from an one night stand on Sunday mornings, just like Viktor.  
  
The reason why Viktor knows this is because he knows by heart how a hungover and/or a walk of shame looks like. Rumpled clothes, and if you‘re _really_ unlucky stains, hastily pulled on clothes which often leaves no time to properly tuck in shirts or straighten collars, the nervous grasp to the back of his jeans, hip and wrist to make sure he hasn‘t forgotten anything, scrunching eyes and the tension in his jaw from shame and hypersensibility from noise and smell and _everything_ really, bruises and lovebites covering his neck he always tries to hide with a graceful hand thrown over it leisurely.  
  
Viktor isn‘t new to all that, but he got considerably better at picking mature partners who would let him shower at their place. A big part of that is probably that he lost the initial shame that led him to practically flee out of the apartment of his one nigh stand. It‘s not embarrassing if you don‘t want it to be and if you make a clear cut between _Yesterday_ and _Today_ , and this made the whole thing ridiculously easier. His neighbor on the other hand seems to still be stuck in the shame circle and prefers to leave as quickly as possible when the deed is done.  
  
Anyway, now he‘s standing in the elevator with his neighbor. His foot taps impatiently against the floor, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Suddenly there‘s a deep sigh.  
  
„I – um. Can I ask you a favor?“ he asks shyly and looks down at his intertwined fingers, dark brows drawn together.  
  
It‘s strange to hear that voice directed at him and not muffled through laughter and walls.  
  
„Yeah sure,“ he answers. It‘s probably the first time he allows himself to properly look at his face, made way easier through the fact that he‘s still not looking at Viktor.  
  
„How do I look?“  
  
„Perfect,“ Viktor answers embarrassingly fast, and then his neighbors head snaps up with wide, surprised eyes. Viktor tries to cover up his embarrassment with an obviously loud fake cough, which makes him even more embarrassed, and he just really, _really_ hopes that he isn‘t blushing.  
  
He looks at him out of the corner of his eye, sees him looking to the ground and – is that a blush? _Holy shit._  
  
„Why?“ he croaks out and then clears his throat.  
  
He looks at Viktor from under his lashes, and it painfully reminds him of Bambi.  
  
„Um, my best friend wanted to come over and hang out, and he wanted to – um, make sure that-“ he stops, face flushed and with an unhappy tilt to the corners of his mouth.  
  
„Oh,“ he bites his lip, „If you don‘t want your friend to know about your, um, _nighttime activities_ it would be better to button your shirt up,“ Viktor says and can‘t help the amused smile as he points at the deep violet marks on his neighbor‘s neck. He immediately clasps a hand over them.  
  
„It‘s okay,“ Viktor laughs, „I usually wear turtle-necks or use concealer for that.“  
  
„Yeah, I noticed you‘re like that too,“ he murmurs, eyes averted. Something quiet settles in his face. Viktor furrows his brows in confusion, and then the elevator doors open smoothly.  
  
He storms out like he‘s being followed.  
  
„Wait,“ Viktor calls before he unlocks his door, and when his head snaps back to him he thinks _fuck_. He‘s all wide, scared eyes, everything about his body language and expression screaming _get the hell away from me you creep._  
  
Viktor presses his lips tightly together. „Um, you shirt isn‘t properly buttoned,“ he says, trying to ignore the little pale patch of skin that‘s peeking out from his dress shirt.  
  
Suddenly there‘s laughter, loud despite it‘s muffled and coming unmistakably from his neighbors apartment, his eyes growing wide as he mouths _oh fuck._  
  
„ _He‘s here_ ,“ he whispers in something akin to fear and _oh_ , how well Viktor knows this pain. He just has to think about the disappointed faces of his parents when he tried to quietly sneak back into his room, the loud screams from Yakov or the knowing smirk and innuendos Chris would throw at him.  
  
Later, he can‘t say what led to all of this. Maybe it‘s the way he looks like a lost child, how innocence is oozing from him like a decadent smell despite the way he‘s dressed. There‘s a flash of something real, something human, a glimpse of something that‘s hard to look at. All of this is an act, a child that put on lipstick from their mom and tries to walk in high heels.  
  
He looks small, like the game of pretend ends at his threshold.  
  
He makes one, two, three steps towards his neighbor and presses a little handmirror and a concealer into his hands.  
  
„Use that for your neck and the bags under your eyes, I‘ll do the rest,“ he says to his dumbfounded neighbor. His mouth hangs open the slightest bit, temping Viktor to press his thumb into the redness of his mouth and see how his tongue would feel. He nods hesitantly, holding the mirror and concealer in his bony hands, so delicate it makes something hot pull behind Viktor‘s navel.  
  
He steps closer and slowly unbuttons his neighbors shirt while he‘s working quickly and efficiently on the dark bruises, and even though his face is serious and his mouth draws a hard, unrelenting line he‘s beet red, but that‘s probably normal considering the fact that his very strange neighbor is undressing him right in the hallway where everyone could see them.  
  
This is an awful idea.  
  
With each new uncovered centimeter of white skin with violet and red dotted carelessly over it Viktor‘s heart beats louder in his ears. His hands brush lightly under his dress shirt, pointed fingertips only skimming over his delicate rib cage, his blush trailing all the way down his chest, and then he feels a nipple under his thumb, feels the jerk and shudder of his body, eyes looking so clear and undimmed it makes Viktor‘s heart flip.  
  
His face looks soft and incredibly, achingly open and wanting that it surprises Viktor because it‘s so intimate and trusting, his dark eyebrows knitted together in sweet desperation.  
  
There‘s a strange pull in those dark, warm eyes, and when these eyes flutter, expectant, Viktor puts all the years of experience to use and translates these signs as _It‘s okay_ so his hand finds its way to the nape of his neighbor‘s neck. A shudder runs through him at that Viktor can feel under his hand, and that‘s all it takes for him to lean forward, miss his lips and instead kiss his hot, soft cheek as his neighbor‘s head turns to the sound of his own apartment door being opened.  
  
„Oh,“ his friend says, and then he smiles brightly, eyebrows risen in a single innuendo.  
  
„Um, I – I have to go now,“ he splutters and presses the mirror and concealer into Viktor‘s hands before rushing into his apartment with wide eyes and red cheeks.  
  
The door clicks shut, and then there‘s laughter bubbling from the other side.  
  
Viktor hates how lost he suddenly feels. His eyes flicker to the little sign besides the apartment door.  
  
_Katsuki._

 

 

  
  
Viktor tries not to think about him, which is already a way of thinking about him.  
  
It‘s like he became aware of the annoying, metallic ticking of a clock and now it keeps him awake at night and makes him grit his teeth, pillow covering his ears in a desperate and fruitless attempt to drain out the noise.  
  
Until now he never noticed how lively his neighbor is. He hears him watching TV or videos in foreign languages, hears him talking and laughing on the phone or when someone visits him. Viktor became awfully good at telling when he‘s home, and he tries not to think about how maybe he listens on purpose to catch a glimpse of his life, how the reason why he reads more and more books now is maybe because missing any sign of life of him, miss any giggle or laugh would be a physical ache in his chest. Which again, is a way of thinking about him.  
  
Viktor is not some robot. He‘s been in love a couple of times, got his heart broken and broke others in return. And this right here strangely feels like the beginning of a new love, only a tender bud in spring, which doesn‘t make sense at all because they talked _one time._  
  
Love doesn‘t work that way, at least not for him. It takes so much more for him to fall in love, but then again he was never good at knowing exactly what he needed. It‘s strange and new, and he wonders if these feelings are maybe less of love and more a strong infatuation and obsession than anything else because he catches himself doing strange, creepy things that are way too embarrassing to talk about.  
  
There‘s this day when he hears Katsuki‘s door slam shut, and he flinches so hard that Makkachin wakes up from her slumber and comfortingly licks over the back of his hands as he listens with beating heart into the silence. He‘s wearing some sort of dress shoes that clack loudly against the wooden flooring, which is the first indicator that something‘s wrong because he‘s pretty sure that Katsuki always takes off his shoes first.  
  
Viktor furrows his brows at this train of thought because it's so fucking intrusive and creepy. He tries to go back to reading.  
  
It works until it doesn‘t. In the back of his head are pressing questions, curiosity a child tugging at his hair and screaming in his ear _Is he okay? What happened?_ The silence of the other side of the wall is not answer enough, but what is he supposed to do?  
  
He sighs and decides to go to sleep.  
  
His bed creaks a little as he sits down and then he hears it. A moan.  
  
Viktor‘s head snaps up at the noise, eyes wide as he stares at the moonlit wall.  
  
Silence.  
  
But before he can think of this as some weird auditory hallucination that stems from his tiredness and the weird, hollow feeling in his chest he hears it again. Louder. And closer.  
  
It sounds like it‘s directly against the wall, and _oh._  
  
Maybe he‘s not alone.  
  
Viktor‘s heart stings painfully for the fraction of a second but he doesn‘t allow himself to feel more or to wallow in disappointment because in the end, he has no right to feel that way towards a stranger.  
  
He knew that Katsuki has several one night stands, fuck, he even tried to cover the evidence up with him. But there‘s just something about this that makes him uncomfortable, something he can‘t quite name but he‘s sure it‘s something about the way he looked that day, how red and honest and wanting he looked, so, _so_ easy and his stomach twists when he thinks about someone exploiting him.  
  
He should only ever be worshiped.  
  
He deserves to be taken apart slowly, to be opened up skillfully until he‘s trembling, should be kissed on each part of his body and hands should roam over him in quiet wonder and adoration, not believing that they have someone like him, even just for a short while. Viktor can imagine him huffing out a breath, laughing about Viktor‘s and his own neediness and desperation as he‘s being handled with so much tender care, with hands that are not where he wants them, an intimate, soft and fragile thing between them that weighs more than the fact that they‘re naked, has more meaning than the sex, or rather, gives the sex more meaning.  
  
His eyes snap open when he realizes he put himself into the place of whoever is in Katsuki‘s bed with him, so easily like putting on a worn glove.  
  
His heart sings with emotion and throbs in sharp pain. Viktor‘s not good with stuff like that. Feeling things so intensely, so irritably doesn‘t make any sense because they‘re all for a stranger. Maybe this says a lot about if he‘s lonely, and the thought strikes like a falling star bright and clear in the dark of his room.  
  
That would explain a lot.  
  
But he can‘t do that, can‘t think of that now, needs distractions so his mind doesn‘t wander too far off into that mess he can‘t even decipher by himself and choke on unspilled feelings and thoughts.  
  
So he works out. Or meets friends. Goes to work. Goes to parties and fucks, and it's _good_. Well, it _was_ good and enough until now, until he heard the faint moaning from the other side of the wall from someone he knows he can‘t have, and he just really wishes he is alone right now just like Viktor and that he could be with him, could hear him make these sounds next to his ear along with quiet, warm promises Viktor would believe instantly and without a trace of doubt.  
  
Things like _don‘t leave, stay, I love you._  
  
Even the thought is too much, and the hollowness of his chest throbs in pain as if it‘s ready to collapse any second like an empty shell, the obvious lack of _something_ so vivid and real like it‘s his own heart that's gone. He feels tears welling up and crawling up his throat hotly, plopping on the pillow with a quiet, soft sound as he blinks and stares at the wall, fringe falling over his face as he hesitantly lets his fingers wander to the waistband of his sweatpants.  
  
The low groan floating through the wall sounds like an encouragement, like he‘s saying _It‘s okay, look how good I‘m feeling._  
  
Viktor gasps as his cool fingers wrap around the heat of his cock, feels the dark, consuming want for so much in his chest slide deeper and deeper until it drips into his lower stomach, transforming desperation into something hot and liquid and superficial, a basic need so shallow it‘s easier to satisfy than to stitch the hole in his chest.  
  
He huffs out a relieving laugh. _That‘s better. That‘s more safe._  
  
From the other side of the wall come muffled sounds like he‘s pressing his mouth against the crook of his elbow. Nonono, Viktor thinks hastily, gets up from his bed and leans against the cool wall, pulls down his sweatpants so they pool as a wrinkled mess around his calves.  
  
Viktor thinks about the open and inviting blushing face of Katsuki, thinks about the plump redness of his mouth. He‘s sure that Katsuki wanted him too, at least for a second. And it makes him wonder what would have happened if he just threw all caution to the wind, if he had kissed him without thinking about his friend lingering in the apartment, how his lips would have felt, where he would put his hand while kissing, if he would have touched his hips or clung to the back of his shirt or tousled his hair. Viktor hopes he would have touched the nape of his neck and run his bony fingers through his hair, but then again it‘s only wishful thinking because in the end, they didn‘t kiss. He was a second too late, and then Katsuki had fled into the safety of his own home.  
  
His hand moves faster, feels precum beading at the tip, and he opens his mouth and groans, loud and deep and real, wanting to be heard.  
  
He opens his eyes, stares at the ceiling and stops. His panting is loud in the quietness of his room as he waits for another sound, a creak, _something._  
  
Nothing.  
  
Burning, painful embarrassment shudders through him and he blushes hard because _of course he‘s not alone_. He‘s disgusting and obsessed, not better than any of the guys he‘s been with who would grunt into his ear _you want this too, I know you do,_ thinking the way he dressed or the way he talked, danced, laughed was solely for the purpose of getting dick.  
  
Viktor‘s disgust of himself sits bitter and hot at the end of his throat. He‘ll just take a cold shower and let go of the idolized vision of Katsuki.  
  
He‘s probably only projecting his desires on the first beautiful person he saw who didn‘t try to flirt with him or get into his bed. Katsuki is close, but they‘re by far not close enough or talked enough to debunk the false, perfect image he has of him, and until now he didn‘t have a chance to know if all the things he made up, the scenarios and words and promises would be true or not.  
  
Viktor likes his illusory world. But you need a naivety for them he doesn‘t possess anymore, so why bother pretending?  
  
Just when he bends down to pull his sweatpants up, there‘s a heavy thud against the wall that startles Viktor so much his head whips around. The moaning is loud, reckless and close and needy, and if Viktor concentrates hard enough he can hear the faint slap of wet skin mixed with the sound of little breathless yeses.  
  
It makes his dick twitch even though seconds ago he was so determined to bury all thoughts about Katsuki. He‘s probably getting pounded in the ass right now. Jealously spreads though him like venom, and he grits his teeth.  
  
It‘s silly, and yet Viktor imagines that if they ever had sex, he would be the best for him. That he would cry and clench around him, and afterwards draw lazy circles into Viktor‘s chest in the afterglow, long after their breathing has calmed down again, and he would whisper quietly, as if he wouldn‘t want to be heard „No one was ever this good to me before.“  
  
He shakes his head and pulls up his sweatpants. He stops dead in his tracks when he hears a faint, muffled voice.  
  
_Let me hear you_  
  
That‘s all it takes for Viktor. With frantic fingers, before his brain can catch up to what he‘s doing, he takes himself in his hand and lets his head fall back against the wall. He‘s loud and he knows and this could be a horrible, mortifying mistake, could be some terrible misunderstanding but it doesn‘t feel that way, and he feels so close to Katsuki like it‘s _his_ hand wrapped around him, and he is _wanted_ , and then his whole face crinkles and crunches up because it‘s _so, so good._

His come is hot and wet on his hands, tears clinging to his lashes as the world drifts into focus again.  
  
After he cleaned up he presses his hand flat against the wall and lingers as if he could touch him, wondering if all of that really happened.

 

 

  
  
The aftermatch of that night comes in a different form than expected the next Sunday. He blinks confused once, twice, three times before he slowly turns his head and looks back at the guy who just slapped him across the face.  
  
„Who the _fuck_ is Katsuki?“ he hisses, face contorted in anger and hand risen as if he‘s considering smacking Viktor again.  
  
The boiling hot embarrassment burns on his cheeks and under his collar. He wanted to end all of that, was so set on it. But his mind slipped back to Katsuki‘s face, to his wide, coffebrown eyes and just for a second, as his eyes were closed and greedy hands all over him, it wasn‘t his usual fuckbuddy.  
  
Viktor wants to apologize, he really does. Being treated like that must be awful, even when they established that their relationship wouldn‘t progress outside of the bedroom.  
  
„I told you to _never_ use me as a substitute for someone, and you promised you wouldn‘t. You said if we fuck, you‘ll think about me.“  
  
Viktor bites his lip and stares at the floor. He just can‘t bring himself to look him into his eyes and apologize. It would feel like he acknowledges the fact that he‘s not over Katsuki, still not able to let all these childish feelings go.  
  
Apparently, this itself is an answer enough because he gets harshly pushed against the bathroom stall.  
  
„You‘re full of shit.“  
  
Viktor slides down the wall and hides his face beneath his hands.

 

 

  
Naturally he‘s in no mood to stay after that. He calls a cab, and during the ride home he stares with furrowed brows out of the window like the answer to how he can stop all these stupid feelings is out there and waiting to be brought home like a stray cat.  
  
The dull ache of longing he felt before has disappeared, and what‘s left is guilt and shame for being so easy, for teetering at the edge of falling in love like a tightrope artist.  
  
He‘s Viktor Nikiforov. He slept with a lot of guys and fell in love but never, not once was the only thing it took for Viktor was a short, tense conversation in an elevator and the brush of careful fingers on claimed skin to throw him off so much, to completely dismantle him beyond repair and recognition.  
  
This part of him is new, and he doesn‘t know what to do with it.  
  
He feels lost in a way he was sure he has discarded years ago.  
  
Grimly he walks towards the elevator and punches the button to his floor, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing as he closes his eyes.  
  
There are steps and a soft noise, and as Viktor opens his eyes and glares there‘s Katsuki‘s annoyed face staring at him until the surprise upon seeing him makes his eyebrows jump up.  
  
Viktor quickly steps aside to give him more room in the already small elevator.  
  
The door closes, and then there‘s a swoop in his stomach and deafening silence in the small, vibrating space between them.  
  
Viktor‘s heart is a red, hot thing full of emotions that are close to bursting. When he catches himself in the mirror, he tries to let his shoulders drop, tries to relax his taut muscles. His eyes drift to Katsuki, to his formerly white dress shirt and his tousled, gelled hair and his red cheeks. He looks like he‘s walking on hot coals.  
  
„Not a good night?“ Viktor asks, his voice a stone thrown through a window by the surprised, almost shocked look Katsuki gives him, pointing at the obvious spot on his dress shirt. His eyes grow wide as they drop to the damage of what a drink apparently did and sighs.  
  
„We‘ll yeah,“ he admits, „I did something stupid.“ Viktor huffs out a laugh that fits more to easy conversation than to the story of a broken heart.  
  
„Yeah same,“ he says with a failing voice and grips his elbows tighter as if this would somehow guard him from the feelings Katsuki evokes in him.  
  
„Stupid as in,“ Katsuki takes a short, quick breath and looks at Viktor with those dark, dark eyes that make his heart heavy, intently and searching, „saying the name of your crush while making out with some other guy?“  
  
Viktor waits. He lets the words sink like sugar at the bottom of a cup, so utterly sweet it‘s almost unbearable to drink. He wants to stir it up first.  
  
„Yeah,“ he says, and it comes out far more breathy than intended, „Exactly like that.“  
  
He lets go of his elbows and faces him properly. Katsuki‘s eyes are dark and his mouth parted, quivering like he wants to say something, words stuck in his throat. His eyes drop to Viktor‘s mouth like he‘s waiting for an invitation.  
  
„But it was even more stupid,“ he begins, and Katsuki‘s eyes snap to his eyes like he was caught doing something bad, „because I said the name of my neighbor.“  
  
Katsuki‘s eyes grow round and shiny, his forehead crinkling up like he‘s still thinking about what to do, what to say, overthinking so much Viktor wants to pull him close, and just as his arm lifts the slightest bit to do just that he rushes forward and slams Viktor against the wall and licks into his mouth eagerly as Viktor gasps at the impact. He exhales hard because he finally, _finally_ gets what he wanted, and with a gesture he knows is way too tender for the way Katsuki slots his thick thigh in between his legs and the way his hands possessively grab Viktor‘s ass he cradles his face and runs a thumb over his cheekbones.  
  
Katsuki kisses with the practiced ease of someone who does it a lot and is confident in his skill, and Viktor is trapped between enjoying the smooth, wet slide of their tongues while he‘s making soft, desperate noises like Viktor is the one pressing a firm leg in between his thighs and feeling his cock harden slowly, and being jealous, almost annoyed even that he acquired those skills with other people, with many, many people who are not Viktor.  
  
Something dark and primeval and silly settles in his gut because Viktor doesn‘t want to be a faceless stranger in Katsuki‘s memory, doesn‘t want to be someone he will groan to his friends over because they‘re neighbors and they‘ll have to see each other even when this heated moment passes. He doesn‘t want a codename, doesn‘t want to be something he can be teased about because Katsuki will be embarrassed by this stupid, stupid thing they‘re doing now.  
  
Viktor wants to be so good to him that he can‘t even talk about it.  
  
He wants this moment to be so precious and good that he would end up saying embarrassing, tender things that are supposed to be whispered in the dark to _Viktor, Viktor, Viktor_ and no one else. He wants him to blush and sigh and daydream, wants him to be so tongue-tied his friends have to guess and he‘ll only nod curtly no matter how open and comfortable he usually is with talking about his one night stands.  
  
Viktor wants to be the best he‘s ever had.  
  
There‘s a swoop in his stomach and the door dings softly as it opens to their floor. When they part, Viktor can feel Katsuki‘s breath fan hotly over his lips. His eyes are warm and coffebrown, dazed like he just woke up from a good dream with tousled hair, and Viktor‘s lips stretch into an easy smile as he thinks about how it‘s because of him.  
  
Then he pulls away, takes Viktor‘s hand softly, almost shyly into his and pulls him out of the elevator as if Viktor wouldn‘t find the way to his apartment anymore.  
  
Katsuki looks so small in front of him. He‘s all slim shoulders and an even slimmer waist, a plump ass that strains fabric. I‘s hard to breathe, to think, because there‘s something crawling hotly up his throat and sitting directly under his ribs. Now, he feels more drunk than he did at the club.  
  
Viktor stops, and before Katsuki can turn around he steps forward, takes a deep breath and wraps his arms carefully around him, feels the smooth fabric under his skin and the barely audible sound of rustling clothing.  
  
His hands lie flat on his belly, fingers splayed over the taut muscle, and Viktor doesn‘t know if that‘s the anticipation or if it‘s normally like this but _god_ does he want to find out. There‘s heat radiating from deep within like a water bottle, and for one short moment it‘s not evens sexual but it feels comfortable, secure, like they‘ve known each other longer than this, like Katsuki was made to be held like this and in Viktor‘s mind the image of them lying in bed together, fully clothed but so huddled up to one another it‘s hard to tell where one starts and the other ends.  
  
Viktor exhales shakily as he lets his chin sink down on Katsuki‘s delicate shoulder, and pressed to his back like that arousal and want seeps through again, feels his cock rhythmically pulsating against the plump cleft of Katsuki‘s ass, and he just can‘t help but slowly, carefully rock into that, seeking friction as he turns his face and presses one, two, three soft, open-mouthed kisses to his slim neck and feels him wriggling in his grasp, rolling his hips back as if this simple touch is for him equally as unbearable and too much as it is for Viktor.  
  
It makes Viktor drunk with giddiness because it‘s such a clear sign he wants this, wants _him_ , and in the empty, amber lit hallway with a carpet that shallows any sound it‘s easy to imagine that Katsuki feels at least a fraction of these dangerous, frightening, silly and amazing feelings Viktor feels, a quiet _I waited for you too_ that makes his blood boil.  
  
Katsuki lets out a tiny breathless _ah_ and tips his head back until he meets Viktor‘s shoulder, one hand coming to cradle his neck and the other slips effortlessly in between Viktor‘s fingers, intertwining them in a tight hold that makes Viktor feel all of his nails digging into the soft skin of his palm.  
  
He doesn‘t mind, as long as he can have this.  
  
Viktor traces a line of kisses along his sharp jaw, letting his desperation and neediness run through him freely like electricity so he can release it all in a bright ball of lightning, a spark in the dark that‘ll vanish like nothing ever happened at all, and when they‘re done Viktor can finally get rid of these feelings. After he pressed them into Katsuki‘s skin with his hands and lips.  
  
He grounds back on Viktor‘s dick hard, rips a low groan from his throat and interrupt his thoughts. Katsuki locks eyes with him from this weird angle and smirks with suggestive eyes despite red cheeks. It goes straight to his cock, an awful, delicious magnificent pull that makes his whole body shudder. Katsuki squeezes his hand hard, almost as if he‘s taking pity on him.  
  
Somehow he manages to maneuver Katsuki to his door and turns him around, hand settling almost chaste now on the small of his back and kisses him. Two and three times turning to five and six before he grabs him by his hard shoulders and pulls away.  
  
„Do you want to…?“ he trails of, still expecting, maybe in some way even hoping that Katsuki would turn away and go. Instead he closes the distance between their bodies, wraps his arms around Viktor‘s waist and pulls him even closer until they both gasp from the delicious, torturous drag of their still clothed cocks.  
  
Katsuki looks dazed with red cheeks and even redder lips, and he rasps „God _yes_ I want this,“ with a voice that sounds so much more wrecked than it should considering they just kissed, but it makes Viktor go hot all over again and he grabs him by the nape of his neck and dives back into a kiss that seems for just a moment make Katsuki‘s knees buckle as he grabs even more desperately onto Viktor.  
  
The warmth between them is comfortable until it‘s not.  
  
They start untucking shirts and opening buttons with frantic, clumsy fingers to roam hands over the slightest expanse of smooth, heated skin they can find. Distantly Viktor notices that Katsuki tries to unlock his door with a key he must have fished from his pockets some time ago, and _oh_ how Viktor knows it‘s hard to do that while being kissed. So he lets go of him and the startled face of Katsuki clouds over by hurt as Viktor stops kissing him. It feels like a punch to the gut.  
  
It only lasts a second and then Katsuki seems to understand, turns around and unlocks the door to his apartment, the dark room inviting and cool, Viktor pressing Katsuki‘s back against the threshold before entering.  
  
„I wanted to ask, um,“ he bites his lip, and Katsuki follows the motion with hungry eyes, „What‘s your name?“  
  
Katsuki‘s eyes grow wide and they get this certain shine back, and then his eyes crinkle at the corners and his smile splits his face, making his cheeks plump and red, a gorgeous smile on his kiss swollen lips as he laughs bell like, so loud and unrestrained Viktor can feel the vibrations in his own chest.  
  
He feels his ears go red.  
  
„It‘s Yuuri,“ he answers, voice full of mirth and delight. It makes Viktor smile too for some reason.  
  
„I‘m-“  
  
„You‘re Viktor,“ he says and laughs again, „Your name is Viktor. I know,“ he says softly, and the way he looks at Viktor feels like a more than welcome intrusion, unsaid words heavy in the space between them.  
  
Then he leans forward and kisses Viktor, almost chaste.  
  
Viktor gets pulled into the dark apartment. His heart throbs painfully, and he doesn‘t know yet why. Unhurried they take off their shoes, Yuuri‘s laughter tinkling through the dark sweetly. At this moment, he allows himself to feel.  
  
The door makes a loud sound as they shut out the word, and Viktor _falls._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Deleted Scene:  
> V: But it was even more stupid because I said the name of my neighbor  
> *make out for the first time*  
> Y: Oh thank god  
> V: What *laughs because Love*  
> Y: I was really worried you didn't mean me but Mrs Jenkins or something  
> V: Ah yes, I do love my women at a ripe age  
> Y: *laughs* Ugh stop or I'll leave 
> 
> ALSO!  
> The whole "I make out with someone but pretend they're my crush and then say their name OH NOOOO"- Thing is inspired by BoredMoose and their amazing, adorable, heartwrenching fic "Wash my mouth but I still taste you" so if you like pining (and I know you do) then please check that fic out!
> 
> Thank you for reading ❤❤❤
> 
> My tumblr is www.its-peach-bleach.tumblr.com


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